Crashing
by Tanba Josav
Summary: And who exactly was Aaron Cross? A stranger, participant Number Five who breezed in and out of her professional life for four years before crashing into it on a much more personal level only a few days ago. Was he a good man, this super soldier she had helped to create? Marta contemplates her life after injecting Aaron with the virus in Manila. COMPLETE


Crashing

Disclaimer: The Bourne Legacy is a part of the Bourne franchise created by Robert Ludlum and I do not own even the slightest part of that. This is only a labour of love adding to the ever expanding Bourne universe.

* * *

He had thanked her; this was what stuck in Marta's head the most. That tiny moment in that dungeon of a lab in Manilla when she had knelt in front of him and hesitated for a moment; Aaron had reached out, took her hand and _thanked her._

Thanked her for what she was about to do, even if it might mean his very life. What kind of person did that? How bad was this Kenneth Kitsom that Aaron would risk the possibility of death over returning to the man he was before? Could Marta have done that? Could she have risked everything to stay the analytical scientist, the brilliant virologist who had aided the system that had produced the man before her? Should she be given the choice, knowing what she now knew?

And who exactly was Aaron Cross? A stranger, participant Number Five who breezed in and out of her professional life for four years before crashing into it on a much more personal level only a few days ago. Was he a good man, this super soldier she had helped to create? He seemed good; he had saved her life even if it was only to prolong his own. She wasn't naïve; Marta knew that Aaron's purpose was to use her knowledge and skills to save himself. But in the days they had been together she liked to think she had seen another side to him. A better side, a secret side that he had shown few before. So, call her crazy but she thought he was a good man, even though she was fairly certain she had just witnessed him killing three guards back in the lab.

It had happened so fast and, yes, Aaron had tried to talk them out of the situation first. But no one had listened and the next thing Marta knew three men where lying on the ground and Aaron was standing over them with a gun in his hand. Then they had run and there had been gunshots and the world around them seemed to explode into chaos and panic and she was sure they would be caught within the lab but somehow Aaron had gotten them out of there. Even now she marvelled at how he had done it, where everyone and everything around them panicked, Aaron seemed the one small moment of calm amidst the chaos. The stranger the world around them became the calmer and more in control he was. How much of that was because of the science and how much was the man all along? Had they created this or just unearthed hidden talents? The scientist in Marta wished she knew, while the fugitive in her just hoped for escape.

In the end it had been easier than she thought; they had just walked out of the lab along with dozens of workers and calmly left the scene. So here they were several streets away and the sirens were quickly fading into the distance. Marta felt like laughing, they had made it, they had _done_ it. Aaron stumbled next to her almost pushing her into someone walking past them.

The man she had bumped turned around, looking like he was about to start an argument, but caught a glimpse of Aaron and muttered something in Tagalog before walking away.

Marta turned to look at Aaron as well. 'Aaron?'

Aaron stood, hands clenching about the straps of his black backpack, staring off into the distance. He didn't acknowledge Marta's words.

Marta turned Aaron towards her for a better look. 'Are you all right?'

His hair was darkened with sweat and his eyes darted aimlessly about the street. His breathing was ragged and his hands continually fidgeted from the backpack straps to his jacket and back again. Marta reached out and shook Aaron gently. 'Aaron!'

Breath catching for a second Aaron blinked and looked directly at Marta. 'Yeah?'

Worried that they might be drawing attention to themselves, Marta pulled Aaron into a side street where it was quieter. Placing her hands on either side of his head she turned his face towards the light streaming from a nearby window to better see what the problem might be. 'Are you hurt?'

Aaron frowned. 'What,' he jerked his head out of her hands. 'No, why?'

Marta watched him as Aaron began to breath heavily again. If he wasn't hurt then . . . her eyes widened as she considered the possibility. Was it the virus, already? It made sense between the fighting and the running Aaron's heart rate must have pushed the virus through his system faster then they had both anticipated.

'Aaron,' Marta reached out and grabbed him by the arm. 'Before when you had the flu, how fast did it progress?'

'What?' Aaron tried to push Marta away, 'Where's Hilcott?'

Marta frowned, who was Hilcott? 'Aaron this is important, when you were sick before how quickly did it progress? How sick did you become?'

Aaron pulled his arm out of her grip and backed up until he was leaning against the nearby wall. 'Is this a test?'

Marta decided to go along with whatever Aaron was talking about. 'Yes, this is a test.' She walked over to him, placing herself directly in his line of sight. 'I need you to remember, when you were sick before, can you do that?'

Aaron nodded, 'Yes.'

'Good,' Marta reached out again and grasped Aaron's forearms with both hands. 'Now listen,' she spoke slowly as if to a child, 'do you remember having the flu?'

Aaron frowned and took several deep breaths; finally he answered her, 'Yes.'

'Good, you're doing good,' Marta said. 'When you were sick like this before, was it fast or slow? Aaron I need to know how long we have, you said you almost died!'

Marta watched Aaron's eyes become unfocused and begin to dart back and forth. It was no good; every time she thought she was getting through to him he seemed to just fade further away. Instinctively she tightened her grip on his arms, accidently pressing down on the spot where she had injected him.

Aaron hissed sharply and his eyes suddenly lost their vague sheen and focused on her, 'Marta?'

Marta almost gasped in relief, 'Yes, Aaron it's me.'

'What happened?'

'The virus, it's progressed faster than I anticipated. Aaron, how fast was the virus before?'

Aaron frowned, 'Progressed?' he swallowed heavily as he tried to think. After a moment he made a fist of his left hand and slammed it hard behind him into the rough brick wall.

'Aaron!'

'Pain helps me focus,' he looked at Marta. 'Is the virus working?'

Marta nodded, 'I think so.'

Aaron staggered away from the wall, 'When the flu hit it was real fast, we need to find someplace to hole up and soon.' He began walking towards the street.

Marta hurried after him, 'Aaron, you said you almost died before.'

Aaron ducked his head slightly and looked sideways at her. 'Nah, Doc, I was just messing with you.'

'Why don't I believe you?' Marta grumbled as they turned onto the street and began walking towards the more populated areas of the city.

'Marta,' Aaron's breathing was becoming more ragged. 'I need you to take point on this.'

'Point?' Marta moved closer to Aaron as he stumbled again.

'Take the lead; I don't know how long . . . Doc, find us a place to stay. Can you do that?'

Marta pressed herself up against Aaron's side; she slipped her left arm behind his back hugging him to her. 'Of course, you've gotten us this far,' she looked up at his sweat slicked face. 'It's the least I can do.'

'Good,' Aaron replied. 'Because I'm not sure how much help I'm going to be.'

They only made it another two streets over before Marta was forced to stop again. Aaron began to shiver, wrapping his arms around his body.

'So cold,' he muttered.

Marta reached out and felt his forehead. 'You're not cold,' she said, 'you're burning up.' She looked about the street; it was mostly dark, full of closed buildings and shops. Off in the distance she could hear people's voices. Surely somewhere there would be a place to stay. 'Aaron,' she tightened her grip on him, 'we have to keep moving, Aaron?'

Aaron shook his head and grunted, 'Yeah, Doc, I hear ya, lead the way.'

* * *

An easy ten minute walk turned into a stumbling half an hour as Marta and Aaron worked their way closer to the centre of town. The closer they moved the more attention they were getting; two white tourists, easy marks for anyone with less than good intentions.

'Aaron,' Marta whispered as a small group of men glared at them before walking past. I'm not sure I can do this.' She leaned Aaron against a wall and took his face in her hands. 'I'm not that brave.'

She watched as he blinked and fought to bring his gaze back to her face.

'Doc?'

Marta sighed in relief, he was still there. 'Yes, Aaron, it's me.'

'Are we safe?' Aaron asked her.

Marta shook her head as she looked around them, 'We're drawing attention, what do I do?'

Breathing deeply Aaron reached up and took Marta's hands away from his face, squeezing them gently. 'I'm slowing you down,' he explained, 'you have to go on alone.'

'What?' Marta tried to step back from Aaron but his grasp wouldn't let her. 'No, Aaron, no, I can't.'

'Quiet!' Aaron noticed the fear in her voice and quickly pulled her back into the shadows of the building. A sharp surge of adrenaline at her panic gave Aaron a brief period of awareness and he was determined to make the most of it. 'We're too conspicuous together. You need to go on alone, find us a safe place and then come back for me.'

'Oh,' Marta fought to suppress a small almost hysterical giggle, 'for a minute there I thought you were dumping me.' She joked trying to make light of the situation.

Feeling himself slipping away Aaron banged the back of his head, once, against the wall. Ignoring Marta's wince as he tried to stay focused. 'Find someplace small, not a tourist attraction. Don't take the first price they offer you, haggle a little but not too much; don't tell them anymore than you have too.' Aaron took a deep breath, trying to keep focused while he passed on as much information as possible. 'If they push we're just a couple of tourists, I drank too much and we need a place to stay while I sleep it off, okay?'

Marta nodded, 'Drank too much, haggle but only a little.' She watched as Aaron struggled with the straps of his backpack. 'What are you doing?'

'I need,' Aaron fought to bring his arms out of the straps, 'help me get this off.'

Marta moved behind Aaron and pulled the backpack off his shoulders. Bringing the small black pack around the front and showing it to him.

Turning his back to the street, Aaron pulled open the zip and reached into the pack. 'You'll need some money.'

'I've got some Pesos.' Marta replied referring to the colourful Philippine money she had acquired at the airport.

Aaron looked up and down the street, seeing no one was paying that much attention to them he pulled out a couple of twenty dollar notes and gave them to Marta. 'American speaks louder,' he said, 'just be cautious, try the local stuff first.'

Marta nodded, nervously, as she slipped the notes into a pocket. 'Drunk, haggle, use local money first.' She muttered to herself before looking up at Aaron. 'What about you? Where will you be?'

Aaron hugged the pack to his chest as he began shivering. He felt his awareness beginning to ebb and flow in waves. He could feel himself slipping away again. Aaron wasn't sure how much longer he would be useful to Marta. Stumbling with his back pressed up against the wall, he slowly moved back towards the street. A loud cheer from a small group of men standing around an open shopfront caught his attention. 'There,' he pointed to them, 'I'll wait there.'

Marta wrapped her arms around Aaron as they walked across the street. 'Are you sure?' she looked over at what seemed to be some sort of betting shop, men standing around exchanging money as a horse race played on a television set above the counter.

'Yeah,' Aaron indicated a place just around the corner of the shop. 'I'll be fine.'

'If you say so,' Marta couldn't hide the doubt in her voice. 'I still think you'd be better finding a safe place. What if I get it wrong?'

Aaron shook his head. 'I'm not me right now,' he tried to explain, 'I might never . . .' taking a deep breath Aaron looked hard at Marta. 'What do you need to do?'

Marta straightened her shoulders and stood a little taller. 'Find a quiet place, not too touristy, haggle but not too much and only use the American money as a last resort.' She looked at Aaron for confirmation, when he continued to just stare she searched her memory for anything she might have forgotten. 'You're drunk and I am . . .' she looked back at the men near the shop for inspiration, 'the pissed off girlfriend?'

Aaron laughed at the thought. 'That could work, Doc. Now go, I'll be here when you get back.'

'Aaron,' Marta put all her fears and frustration in that one word.

'You can do this.' Aaron looked at Marta, trying to show all his confidence in her abilities, trying to convey to her that she was capable of doing this. 'We've come this far.'

'Okay,' Marta nodded, 'I'll be quick.'

'You'll be safe,' Aaron corrected her sharply before softening his tone. 'Now go, I'll be right here.'

'You better be.'

Aaron watched Marta walk back along the street; he continued watching until she disappeared from sight. Then he turned his head towards the wall and clutched the backpack closer to his chest.

* * *

 _One minute it was hot, the next it was cold. How could a desert be so cold? Kitsom had lived in Reno and never seemed to get this cold at night. He shivered and clutched the blanket_ (no bag, it's a bag) _closer to his chest. He had wanted this; he wanted to join the Army._

 _He remembered the recruitment Sergeant at the mall. How he had talked up the wonders of the Army. 'You want to belong, son?' the man had said. And Kitsom had felt a moment of happiness; no one had ever called him son before. 'Then the Army is for you. The places and faces might change but the Army will always stay the same. It is your mother, it is your father, the Army is there for you, son, always and forever.'_

 _So he had signed on; not to protect and serve his country, since when did this country ever give a damn about him? But to belong, to finally_ belong _to something bigger and better than he'd ever be. He had no family, no hopes, what else could he have done?_

 _Heat again, Kitsom could feel the sweat running down his back. But the heat felt wrong, somehow. It wasn't dry like he remembered, it was sticky. It seemed to cling to his body, like he was surrounded by water._ (That's because you're not in Afghanistan, you're in Manila.) _And the voices, all those foreign words that usually grated in his ears seemed different as well._ (Tagalog, not Farsi, you can even speak both languages now.)

 _Cigarette smoke drifted past Kitsom_ (Aaron, my name is Aaron.) _causing him to cough and move further away. It reminded him of Lieutenant Forster, that man always had a lit cigarette in his mouth. Even on the day of the IED, the day everyone had died._

 _Forster had called him their lucky charm, 'Private Kitsom, we're safe with him around, the sumbitch is too dumb to die.' The others had taken to banging the back of his helmet before each mission, treating him like some sort of backwards hick; which he was in a way. And the Lieutenant had been right, Kitsom had lived; the only one in the Humvee who survived the explosion. Too dumb to die._

 _So they had medivaced him out, taken to some hospital somewhere and operated on. Lacerations, head trauma_ (yeah, like you'd notice) _and the news that he had done his duty, the Army was letting him go. 'Honourable Discharge, Private, you've done enough for Uncle Sam.' The one place he had hoped to belong to was turning its back on him. Too damaged, too much trouble, not worth the time and money to fix._

 _And then_ he _had come, the man with the nice face, the soft voice, what was his name again?_ (Hillcott, the bastard's name was Hillcott.) _He had offered Kitsom a second chance, a chance to still serve._

' _What's your name?'_

' _Kenneth James,'_ (James and June, say it, James and June.)

' _Full name, Kenneth.'_

' _Ken – Kenneth. . . James. . .'_

'Kitsom.'

The woman was standing before him, a concerned look in her eyes. 'We have a room.'

Where had she come from? Why was she talking to him? Aaron just looked at her, did he know her? Brown hair, brown eyes, scared but trying not to show it. An image of her in a white coat floated to the surface of his mind, quickly followed by her scared and pulling the trigger of an empty handgun. Marta, Marta Shearing, that was her name and he was Aaron Cross, formerly participant Number Five.

'Can you walk?' she asked, worriedly.

Deep breath, keep it together, they are still in danger until they can get off the street. 'Yeah.'

'Yeah?' she asked.

Aaron nodded, 'Yeah I think so.'

But he didn't complain when she helped him down the street.

* * *

Well the room certainly didn't look like much, but then again, Marta mused to herself as she half pulled Aaron through the door, you get what you paid for.

Marta guided Aaron over to the single bed, she tried to lower him gently but momentum took over and he fell.

'Aaron, are you okay?' she tried taking the backpack from him, where he was clutching it to his chest. Aaron resisted at first before reluctantly letting it go. 'Aaron?'

Sitting upright Aaron blinked and looked about, 'Where?'

'A room, like you told me,' Marta reached inside his suit jacket for an arm. 'We're safe here, for now.'

Aaron looked on a little bemused as Marta pulled one then the other of his arms out of the jacket. 'Always getting me undressed, ain't ya, Doc?'

Marta dumped the jacket on the floor, 'Old habits,' she joked; glad to hear some of the old Aaron in his voice.

'Finally going to make an honest man of me?' Aaron patted the bed he was sitting on.

Marta pulled his tee shirt over Aaron's head with a sigh, this was a side of Number Five that she didn't much like; she knew he only did this to needle her into a reaction during the examinations. His way of trying to take back some control of the situation. Marta had hoped that now they were free Aaron would drop that part of him, be more himself – unless this was who Aaron really was? Marta stood up and gestured to Aaron, 'I think you can handle the rest,' she said a little abruptly.

Leaving Aaron struggling with his shoelaces, Marta wandered into the bathroom. She returned carrying an old fan, its cord trailing behind her. Aaron had gotten as far as removing his shoes and socks before collapsing back onto the bed.

Sighing Marta placed the fan on the floor and looked about the room for an outlet, 'I think this thing is older than I am.'

'Doc,' Aaron reached out trying to catch Marta's hand as she moved past him.

'There must be a –' Marta pulled a small table away from the wall, revealing a wall socket for the fan. Turning back she brushed past Aaron again.

With a grunt Aaron managed to sit upright, although the effort left him exhausted. He watched Marta as she picked up the fan and placed it on the table, bending down behind to plug the fan in, 'Marta?'

Marta ignored him as she turned the fan on; it gave a brief turn before stopping. Marta smacked the fan a couple of times, 'Work, damn you,' she begged it. The ancient blades began to move slowly before building up momentum. Brushing damp hair away from her forehead Marta turned to look at Aaron. He was sitting hunched over on the side of the bed.

'I got the fan working,' she told Aaron as she crouched down in front of him. 'Does it help?'

Reaching towards his face to get a rough gauge of his fever Marta was shocked to see Aaron flinch away from her. 'Aaron?'

Aaron hugged himself, 'Please,' he whispered, 'I'm sorry, I won't do it again.'

Marta's breath caught, his voice was different. Gone was the brash persona of Number Five, gone was the confident controlled man that was Aaron Cross. This was someone else; someone tentative, afraid, someone so terribly, terribly alone. 'Kenneth?'

Glazed grey/blue eyes looked up at her briefly before Aaron looked back down at his knees. 'Yes, ma'am,' he whispered.

Oh god, had she lost him, had the virus not worked? 'Kenneth, do you know who I am?'

Aaron shook his head, as he began to clench and unclench his hands, 'No, ma'am.'

Marta put on her most professional voice, 'I'm Doctor Marta Shearing,' she waited to see if that name meant anything to Aaron. 'I'm your doctor.'

Aaron looked up at her, a brief look of something like hope flitted across his face before it vanished, 'Am I sick?'

'Yes,' Marta said firmly, 'but I am here to make you better, okay?'

Aaron nodded as he dropped his head and began picking at the skin along this right thumb nail. A bead of sweat fell onto his knee, quickly followed by another. Sweat was streaming down his back and chest.

'Aar – Kenneth look at me,' Marta watched Aaron's hands still. His whole body tensed, reminding Marta of a childhood memory of a neighbour's dog that had been hit too many times. Poor thing would hunch over just like Aaron was, deadly still, waiting for the next blow.

Reaching out Marta cupped her hand under Aaron's chin slowly raising his head and trying to ignore the shiver she felt running through his body. She desperately hoped that was the fever and not fear causing him to tremble. 'Kenneth, you're not well,' she told him gently. Using her other hand Marta felt Aaron's cheek and forehead, 'You still have a temperature, we need to get that down or you're going to dehydrate fast.' The water in the bathroom was out of the question, one of the first things Outcome drilled into the scientists before they made a trip to Manila was never drink the water. She would have to risk a trip outside. 'Kenneth,' she looked back at the man, 'Are you thirsty?'

Aaron licked dry lips and swallowed, 'Yes.'

Marta smiled at Aaron as she dropped her hands away from his face. 'I have to go and get some water, okay?'

'No,' Aaron's hands reached out towards Marta before dropping back in his lap. 'Don't leave me.'

'Shh, it's alright,' Marta tried to soothe an agitated Aaron. 'I'll only be a little while; I need to get some water.'

'Please,' Aaron hunched over and began to rock back and forth, 'don't leave me, everyone leaves me.'

'Aaron, no,' Marta wanted nothing more than to reach out and hug him, but she was unsure how he would react. 'It will just be for a little while, I'll come back.'

Aaron continued to rock as he shook his head.

Marta had to go, any delay was dangerous, but at the same time she couldn't leave Aaron like this. Looking about for ideas Marta's glanced at Aaron's left wrist. 'Kenneth,' she reached out and grabbed Aaron's arm, 'see this?'

Aaron stopped rocking as he looked at the watch on his wrist.

'See the time?' Marta indicated the hands on the watch; it was seven minutes past ten at night. 'I'll be back before the little hand reaches the five, okay?'

'Twenty-five minutes past ten,' Aaron's voice took on a more annoyed tone, 'I can read a watch.'

Marta stifled a laugh of relief, for a moment there Aaron almost sounded like his old self, 'Of course, my mistake.' Rising to her feet Marta checked her pockets. The room had taken most of the Peso she had left; she knew Aaron had exchanged some money at the airport, too. Surely he wouldn't mind if she took some of his, just in case the water cost more than she was expecting. Reaching into his jacket, which she had thrown on the floor, Marta took out some notes.

'Doc.'

Marta spun about to see Aaron looking at her, his gaze was clearer. She didn't know how, whether it was the watch, or some protective instinct that caused Aaron to rise to the surface but she was glad to see he was still in there. 'I have to go get some water,' she told him.

Aaron nodded as he wiped sweat from his eyes. 'Be careful,' he said.

'I will.' Marta told him, resting a hand on his shoulder as she walked past him. 'I'll be quick, no,' she corrected herself, 'I'll be quick and safe.'

'Hey,' Aaron watched Marta turn back to him in the doorway, 'if you're not back in twenty minutes, I'm coming after you.'

Marta's small smile matched Aaron's own, 'Deal.' She closed the door firmly behind her.

Aaron's smile faded away as he grabbed at his side, groaning in pain he slipped sideways off the bed.

* * *

Marta hurried up the stairs, two plastic bags full of bottled water dragged on her arms. It had taken longer than she had anticipated buying the water and now she was worried that Aaron had left to go looking for her. The last thing either of them needed was to be wandering about the streets. The commotion from the factory hadn't seemed to reach this part of the city yet every time Marta had heard a sudden noise or had thought someone was looking at her funny her heart rate had jumped sky high.

Unlocking the door, Marta picked up her bags and walked into the room. 'Aaron, I'm sorry I took so long to –' the bed was empty, no sign of Aaron. 'No, no, no,' dropping the bags Marta hurried over to the bed and it was only then that she saw him lying face down on the floor. 'No, please no,' she whispered kneeling down next to Aaron. With a little effort she managed to roll him onto his side. Her hands were trembling so much it took several attempts before she was able to find a pulse. Panic gave way to relief as she dropped her hand from his neck to rest on his sweat slickened chest. Leaning back against the bed she closed her eyes. For a moment there she had thought, no she shook her head, they hadn't come this far for it to end like this.

Taking a few calming breaths Marta began to assess their situation. She needed to get Aaron's temperature down to give him the best shot at survival. Glancing over at the abandoned bags, Marta eased herself away from Aaron and walked over to the open door. First thing to do was secure their position; Marta fought back an hysterical giggle, now she was starting to sound like Aaron. Closing the door she looked around for the fallen key, she knew it was in her hand when she had walked in. Seeing it on the floor she bent down and retrieved it. Turning the key in the lock didn't give her any real sense of safety, though; it wouldn't take much effort to bust the door down. Looking about again her gaze lingered on the only chair in the room. It was a bit of a movie cliché, but weren't things clichés for a reason? Marta walked over to the old wooden chair and dragged it back to the door. Tilting it slightly she wedged the back of the chair under the doorknob. She didn't know if it would actually stop someone from getting in but at least it would give them some warning.

Marta looked over at Aaron lying on the floor, not that a warning would do them much good at the moment if she couldn't get Aaron well again. Although right now she would settle for conscious.

Kneeling back down next to Aaron, Marta was concerned at the amount of heat that seemed to be radiating off him. 'Aaron,' she shook his shoulder gently at first before increasing the pressure. 'Aaron!'

His body rocked under her hands, but it wasn't until she reached for his face that one of his hands came up to intercept her. Looking down Marta saw his eyes slowly open.

'Doc?' he croaked, before clearing his throat.

Marta sighed in relief. 'Still with us?'

Aaron nodded slowly, 'Still here.'

'Good,' Marta could feel the tension draining from her body. She was not alone. 'Aaron,' she reached out to place a hand on his shoulder, 'why are you on the floor?'

Aaron looked about him in surprise. 'Don't know,' he admitted. 'Where are we?' he tried to sit up but quickly lay back down with a groan.

'Don't you remember?' Marta asked. 'I found us a place.'

'Right,' Aaron rubbed his eyes, 'help me up.'

'Okay,' Marta said a little doubtfully. Moving behind Aaron she lifted his shoulders until they were resting on her knees. Looking down she caught Aaron looking up at her. 'Stop enjoying this,' she complained good-naturedly. Slowly she inched forwards, pushing Aaron's body into a more upright position. 'Anyone ever tell you're heavy?'

'Muscles,' Aaron corrected her as he leant to his left and slowly rolled his body onto the bed. 'Not heavy.'

Marta brushed some damp hair away from her face, 'Sure keep telling yourself that.' Walking over to the bags she pulled out a bottle and was about to throw it at Aaron before stopping mid motion. He was in no condition to catch anything at the moment. Luckily he hadn't seemed to notice what she was about to do. 'Here,' Marta walked over and handed Aaron the bottle.

Aaron let the bottle slide to the floor as Marta walked into the bathroom. The room kept going in and out of focus, much like his thoughts. It felt like he was trapped underwater, in the murky dark, and above him was a light. If only he could surface, reach the light, he knew everything would be okay. He kept moving upwards, ever upwards, but it seemed like he was getting nowhere. Or maybe he was swimming in the wrong direction?

A sudden cough forced Aaron to roll over on his side, or maybe he wasn't swimming at all, maybe he was just treading water and waiting to die.

'Aaron?' Marta poked her head out of the bathroom, 'everything okay?'

Aaron waved away Marta's concern. 'Fine,' he rasped. He watched her frown slightly, before disappearing back into the room.

After the coughing subsided he rolled onto his back and threw an arm over his face to block out the glare of the overhead light. There was something he needed to remember, something important to tell her. The woman in the next room, he had to tell her something but the thoughts kept darting just out of reach. Like fish, fish in the water, always just beyond his grasp. Too slow, he was just too slow.

A loud scraping sound made Aaron jump on the bed, looking over he saw the woman, June, was her name June?, pulling a small table across the room. The rush of adrenaline briefly cleared his head; yes there was something he had to say to her. Something Marta needed to know.

Sitting on the small coffee table next to the bed, Marta poured some bottled water over a cloth she had found in the bathroom. Aaron might seem more like himself at the moment but if she didn't get his temperature down soon, he might still have problems. It had taken all his strength just to get back up on the bed. Wringing out the cloth she leant over him and began to wipe his forehead. Of course he immediately tried to stop her, fighting against her help, trying to push her away.

Marta shushed gently as she placed the cloth on his forehead. 'Okay, just lie still.'

But he pushed her hands away and began to sit up.

'Aaron, you have . . . Aaron . . .' she gave up trying to stop him from sitting and just helped him upright. Maybe if Aaron was able to say what was bothering him he might settle back down and let her help him. 'What?'

'There's forty thousand dollars in the lining of my jacket.' Aaron started to say as she began wiping the side of his face. 'In this bag there are passports. Two blanks and three ghosts, there's that guy's watch. There are other things, okay? You take it.'

Marta looked down in disbelief first at Aaron's words then at the bag they had been carrying. Forty _thousand_ dollars?

'Look at me,' Aaron said. 'You can make it,' he watched as Marta looked up at him in shock. 'You're a warrior,' he noted her look of disbelief at his words. Hadn't she bought them this far on her own, didn't she know her worth? 'You can make it, okay? Stay small, no airports. Just blend in like you know, okay?'

Marta blinked back tears as she began to shush Aaron; she didn't want to hear this. Why was he saying these things? It was like he had given up, why was he pushing her away?

'You've done enough for me.'

'No I –' Marta continued to shush Aaron. Done enough? If it hadn't been for her and the programme he wouldn't be here in this situation in the first place.

'Please go,' Aaron whispered as he rested his head on her shoulder. Didn't she know if she stayed Marta would only be in more danger? The safest thing for her was to get as far from him as possible. Once they had him, maybe they would stop looking for her. 'You've done enough for me.'

Marta brushed Aaron's hair as he slipped back into unconsciousness. After a few minutes she eased him down on the bed and sat back on the edge of the table. Her gaze drifted to the black backpack, all that money, could she do it? Just take it and leave? Leave him? Absently Marta began folding the cloth in her hands in half, then half again. He asked her to leave; no he _wanted_ her to leave. Marta clenched the cloth tight to still the trembling in her fingers. Why did he want her to leave? She'd done all he'd asked, she'd thought that maybe . . .

Marta dropped the cloth into the bowl and swiped at her wet cheeks. No, he had said it himself, she had done enough. This wasn't her world, not her fight. Marta reached down and picked up the wet cloth, wringing it out she began to wash Aaron's face and chest. But they had made it her fight when they had attacked her, first at the lab and later at her own home. Her _own home_ and if it hadn't been for Aaron . . .

'I'd be dead if it wasn't for you,' she whispered to him.

She watched as Aaron began mumbling to himself, fingers twitching. Was he fighting in his dreams, was he fighting the virus, fighting the people that were chasing them? Refreshing the cloth Marta continued to try and bring down Aaron's temperature. As she ran the cloth down one arm he reached out and captured her hand in his. Squeezing her hand Aaron brought it up to his chest and rested it there. For some reason this seemed to settle him a little, as the mumbling stopped and Aaron slipped into a deeper sleep.

Marta sat there frozen, not moving until a far off siren caused her to half jump to her feet. Aaron's eyes flickered at her reaction and he began to wake.

'Hush,' Marta sat back down, resting her hand back on his chest, 'it's all right, Aaron, everything's fine.' Glancing over her shoulder at the window she muttered to herself, 'I hope.'

Reaching down with her other hand Marta pulled the washcloth out of the bowl, squeezing it a little and wiping the back of her neck. One thing she never liked about Manila was the humidity. But if she was supposed to just leave Aaron here and walk away it would be something she'd have to get used to. If she just walked away.

Marta looked down on Aaron and bit her lip; she couldn't leave him like this, not now. She was his doctor; she had a duty of care. If something was to happen because she wasn't here, she'd never forgive herself. Marta felt some of her tension ease as she reached her decision. No, she was staying, at least until Aaron's fever broke. If he still insisted she go then, Marta sighed, that was a conversation for another day.

So much had changed in less than a week. She had seen the people she had worked with for almost four years killed before her very eyes, her career over. Her house, no her whole life burnt to the ground, she was a ghost now, on the run with a man she hardly knew. Marta glanced down at Aaron, who was he really, this man she had somehow helped to create?

A good man, she now believed. He had saved her life, been there when her world had come crashing down. It seemed only fair that she stay and help him rebuild his.


End file.
